


A Wedding Planner Walks Into a Bar

by 1sttimefeeling



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: #TheyDeserveBetter, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Charles Is a Big Dorkface, Erik Has Feelings, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Romantic Comedy, Smitten Erik, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-05-01 19:37:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19184287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1sttimefeeling/pseuds/1sttimefeeling
Summary: When Raven hires Erik to be the bartender at her wedding, he becomes quickly infatuated with the wedding planner, Charles Xavier, who he thinks is her fiancé.





	1. The Blonde and the Bartender

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of this prompt on the kink meme:
> 
> A fic in which Erik is a bartender and one night a group of friends come in to celebrate an upcoming wedding. The bride-to-be, Raven, immediately takes a liking to Erik and asks if he would like a job bartending at her wedding. He agrees. Over the next few weeks, he settles the arrangements with Charles, who he assumes is the husband-to-be, and becomes infatuated with him. Awkwardness ensues in which Charles (who is actually the wedding planner and brother of the bride) wants Erik and Erik wants Charles but Erik thinks Charles is off limits.

“My boyfriend is most definitely gay,” Raven announces, dropping herself onto the bar stool. She just needs a drink, a strong one, because she's itching to do something to get Hank's attention. 

The bartender that greets her has a gorgeous face, red-brown hair and stormy eyes that look green in the dim light of the bar.

“Something strong then?” he asks.

She smiles. “You read my mind.”

The man turns his back as he prepares her drink. Raven watches the line of his broad shoulders, admiring how steady and strong he is. Oh, if only Hank could be more like this hunk of a man, instead of someone so…

“Absent,” she says aloud. The man slides her Long Island Iced Tea across the bar.

“Sorry?” the bartender asks.

Raven takes a sip of her drink. It’s cool and delicious, and there's a sudden kick at the end that sets her heart pounding. It’s perfect.

“My boyfriend is absent,” she says, “and that’s why I think he’s gay.”

The man laughs. He leans in and props his head up on one of his hands. Raven can see golden flecks in his gorgeous eyes. Damn Hank, damn him, if she was single she would so jump on this bartender, but she’s in love with a man who loves his research more, who spends more time at the lab than in her bed (even when she wears that lingerie he loves), and she hates  _sharing._

“He must be crazy, if he thinks he can leave a girl as beautiful as you behind,” the bartender’s voice is pitched low, and Raven almost feels the stirring of butterflies in her stomach. The temptation to flirt with this insanely attractive man is there, dangling in front of her.

“Leave the fucking girl alone, Erik,” a blond says, appearing from the other side of the bar. He swipes at the bartender, Erik, with a damp dish towel. “Everyone knows you’re gay as Christmas.”

Erik rolls his eyes. “And there goes the extra cash I was about to bring in for us.”

Raven doesn’t know whether to be affronted or relieved, so she knocks back the rest of her drink until the glass is empty.

“Can I have another one, please?” she asks. She’s not trying to drown her sorrows away, no. She’s just trying to be drunk enough to call Charles to take her home, to draw enough attention to get Charles to call Hank who will finally, _finally_ come home from that stupid lab of his.

“One more,” Erik nods towards the other man. “You know what to do, Alex.”

Alex huffs and turns around, clinking glasses and bottles as he makes a drink for Raven.

“So he’s never around?” Erik asks Raven. Another Long Island Iced Tea is slid her way.

Raven frowns. “It hasn’t always been like this.”

She tells him about how the recent months have been extra draining for her. How they’ve been dating for four years and it feels like a waiting game. How her mother keeps pressuring her and telling her she shouldn’t have moved in with him, because now there’s nothing left but a legal agreement to look forward to. She tells him how scared she is that he might not be into her anymore.

“There must be something going on, because he’s always holed up somewhere. I get so worried and stressed, and I know it’s been four years, but fuck, I love him,” she says. Her eyes are starting to sting with tears and fuck this, she doesn’t want to cry about him. “He’s who I want to marry, if he would just fucking-” She takes a deep breath. “If he would just fucking ask me.”

Erik places his hand on her shoulder and squeezes it.

“Everyone is always in a race to get to the finish,” he says slowly, “to get married, to have kids, to get their dream job. Sometimes that shit just doesn’t happen. Sometimes it does. But those milestones happen when you’re not paying attention. They creep up on you.” He smiles at her, which would be almost kind, if it wasn’t so shark-like. “I can’t tell you if he’s gay or straight, but I can tell you that the four years you two have built together is worth waiting for, at least for a little longer.”

Raven sighs. She knows he’s right. She’s just tired of waiting for Hank to show up at the end of the day. His hair is always messed up from running his hands through it so many times and his glasses are never quite straight on his nose. But she loves it. Loves him for all his little quirks and crookedness.

“You’re right,” she says, “but while I'm waiting, I might as well drink some more.”

Erik laughs and gives her a drink on the house, which then leads her to calling Charles, which then leads to Charles calling Hank.

Raven’s laughing loudly at a joke Alex made when Charles walks in.

“I’m terribly sorry for her,” Charles says to whoever is closest. (It’s Erik, but he’s not looking when he takes Raven by the arm.)

“Oh Charles, you’re here,” Raven squeals. She throws her arms around him in a sloppy hug and a wet kiss on the cheek. “I love youuu.”

Charles laughs and pushes her back to her feet, where he slings one of her arms around his shoulders. Raven digs through her purse and pulls out a 50 dollar bill and slaps it on the bar.

“Thanks, Erik, you’re better than any therapist I’ve ever seen.”

Charles turns towards the door, looping Raven’s arm around his shoulders. Erik turns around just in time to see the back of his head: soft, tawny brown hair and a grey tweed jacket.

 

* * *

 

“Your mother will be gone by Christmas,” the doctor says.  

The date is December 2nd. Christmas is four weeks away.

The doctor tells Erik the blunt truth because he knows that he had wanted it.

His mother had been in and out of the hospital for the past two years, and Erik had been there for her every step of the way. He sacrificed his free time for her, worked late nights, so he could be by her bed in the morning, telling her stories and jokes.

Edie Lehnsherr was only 60, and had never smoked, so Erik had some cause to feel cheated.

Lung cancer, stage four. What would happen to them now? His mother was the only person left in the world he loved. When he lost her, what would he do?

He had (maybe) one friend, no stable career, and his house was full of his mother’s things.

“She’s asking for you,” the doctor says.

Erik eases himself to his feet. He picks up the white paper bag, filled with *sufganiyot, and enters the room.

His mother grins when she sees the bag. Erik closes the door and hands it to her. She frowns.

“I only asked for one.”

“I know.”

“You’re going to get me fat.”

“Maybe.”

“Here, take one,” his mother says.

Erik takes the doughnut from the bag and takes a bite.

“Just take it out of the way,” his mother says. “I don’t want to be tempted.”

“Just eat it and don’t worry about it,” Erik says. He takes a seat at her bedside.

His mother takes a bite and swallows it, the powdered sugar coating her lips. She coughs, spasms that double her up in the bed.

Erik puts the bag down on the floor and gets out of his chair, to pat her on the back, do something. 

“Sit down,” Edie says. “I’m fine.”

His mother had been the strongest woman Erik had ever known. She had paid the bills, mowed the lawn, and raised a boy all on her own.  But now she was constantly coughing. Her skin hung loosely around her face. Her hands shook.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

“Any good stories from the bar?” Edie asks.

Erik tells her about the woman he had met last night who wanted so desperately to be married. How her boyfriend had picked her up from the bar because she was too drunk to drive home. 

“People are so impatient,” he says.

His mother smiles, as if she knows the future. “One day, you’ll be the same.”

He squeezes his mother’s hand. “I’m glad you don’t have to see that, mama.” It’s meant to be a joke, but the truth of the statement resonates quietly in the room. It stings.

“I’m sorry I can’t be at your wedding,” she murmurs. “There is nothing more that I would like to see more than you happy and settled.”

Erik closes his eyes, letting his mother’s words settle over him like a lead blanket. “There will be no wedding. I don’t have anyone else but you.”

“I haven’t given you the chance to look. You’ve been so preoccupied with caring for me, you haven’t built a life for yourself,” she says. His mother places a hand on Erik’s cheek. “My absence is what you need.”

Erik’s eyes are wet when he opens them again. “What I need, is for you to get better.”

“That’s not going to happen and we both know it.”

A tear slides down Erik’s cheek. He’s not ready for the inevitable.

“Don’t cry, schatz. We still have one last Hannaukah together. Now pass me the sufganiyot, will you?”

 

* * *

 

Edie dies four weeks later, the exact time frame the doctor had predicted.

Erik holds her left hand, watching her chest slow its rise and fall. They both know it’s time.

“I love you,” he says. Her eyes flutter open, just slightly.

“I love you too.”

 

* * *

 

 

It's been two months since his mother passed, and it’s a Friday night, so Erik doesn’t have to think about anything but drink orders. Alex is on the late night shift with him. There’s too many drinks to make to have a conversation, but they’ve found their rhythm, mixing mojitos and cosmos.

By the time midnight rolls around, Erik officially hates his job. The bar is full of shriekers and dancers, and they snap their fingers and demand instant service. The exhaustion must be evident on his face, because Alex grabs his arm. 

“Take a breather,” Alex says. “I got the next few orders.”

Erik sighs a breath of relief and heads over to the end of the bar to check his phone (for zero important messages) and get his thoughts back in order.

That is, until he’s punched in the shoulder by a five-foot nine blonde with a crimson smile. He recognizes her, he’s definitely served her before, but her face is one of those faces that looks like everyone else’s.

She brought an entourage of four girls with her, all giggly and tripping over themselves in their high heels. They congregate around the bar, crowding him. This is his payback for flirting with straight girls for tips, goddamn it.

“What the fuck was that for?” He asks the blonde.

She grins at him. “What, you don’t remember me? Come  _on.”_

He stares at her blankly.

“Oh for fuck’s sake. I’m the girl who wanted to get married and you told me to wait for him. Do you remember now?”

Erik blinks. The girl who left him a fifty dollar tip. “Yes,” he says. “Now I remember.”

“And guess what!” She leans over to throw her arms around him in an awkward hug. “I’m getting married!”

Erik prys her arms from his shoulders and takes a step backward, so she can’t hug him again. He hasn't felt any sort of physical affection since his mother died. “Can I get you something to celebrate?” he asks.

“Five shots of tequila for my friends and I, please.” She nods at the rest of the girls who are talking to Alex. 

Erik goes back to the middle of the bar and adjusts the top on the tequila bottle. He lines up the shot glasses on a tray, the clinking noise mixing with the laughter of the girls. He evenly pours the tequila into the glasses and slides the tray across the table.

The blonde immediately picks up a shot and knocks it back. “Don’t you understand what getting married means?”

“You’re going to be united in a consensual relationship under law?”

She makes a face. “No, Merriam-Webster, it means I'm never going to have to sit at your bar and mope about my miserable love life ever again. It means means I'll never have to put on a low-cut, skin-tight dress and a push up bra and try to impress someone else, either.”

He’s about to say she doesn’t have to do that, anyway, but he finds her gleeful, determined smile to be endearing. Engaged couples are always so starry-eyed, but it’s more like a fire in this woman’s eyes. Like love had jolted her, awakened her like a shot of espresso.

Speaking of espresso, he could really use one of those right about now.

“Great,” Erik says, smiling. “The less time at the bar the better.”

She laughs. “You should smile more often, Erik. You look less like a serial killer.”

Erik knows for a fact that his smile is _much_ scarier than his frown, but he shrugs. “Don't have much reason to.”

“No girlfriend, then?”

Erik opens his mouth to correct her, but she blurts, “Oh wait, you’re gay.” She pauses, her eyes raking down his figure. He knows she can’t see much in this light, but he wants to squirm under her scrutiny. "That's _wonderful._ ”

She claps her hands together. “You're perfect. You have to be a part of my wedding.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sufganiyot is a a round jelly doughnut eaten around Hanukkah.
> 
> More chapters to come! Stay tuned.


	2. The Bar and the Bartender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your support! Hope you enjoy. :)

The blonde, Raven, says she’ll send Charles in to settle the arrangements. Erik doesn’t take her seriously. Not after one tequila shot, and especially not after five.

So when he hears the door open on a Thursday afternoon at 3 p.m., he automatically assumes its a functional alcoholic trying to get an early start at the bar. Erik has his back turned away as he polishes the liquor bottles on the shelf.

“We’re closed,” Erik says. “Come back at six, when I’m not here.”

The man, of course, ignores him and takes a seat at the bar. “I think that would defeat the purpose, Erik, wouldn’t you?”

Erik goes still at the sound of his name. “I _said,”_ he says slowly, “we’re closed.”  He turns around to tell the man to exactly why he should leave the bar, but shuts his mouth immediately.

The man across from him has bright blue eyes that cut right to Erik’s core. His brown hair is tousled in a way he wants to run his hands through, and he has the reddest lips Erik has ever seen. Erik can only imagine the things he can do with those lips.

He swallows hard. “Who are you?”

The man smiles, all charm. “Charles Xavier.” Charles has got a great smile and an excellent face, and Erik stomach clenches. Erik hasn’t flirted with a man in months. He hopes he remembers how. “Raven sent me.”

Fuck, Erik thinks. Fuck. Now he remembers where he’s seen hair like that. Charles had walked Raven out of the bar, his arm around her shoulders. Of course. This beautiful man was her fiancé.

Erik trains a smile on his face. “I didn’t think she was serious,” he says. “About me bartending the wedding.”

Charles laughs, which Erik immediately loves and hates all at the same time.  “You’ve only seen her drunk,” he says. “But once she’s made up her mind about something, she doesn’t let it go.”

Erik nods, remembering how long she must have waited for Charles. (Fuck, he’d wait _decades_ , but it's not like what he’d do even matters.) “She’s a great woman, Charles.”

Charles beams at him. “So you’ll be our bartender, then?”

_Our_ bartender. Erik hates the sound of that. “Maybe,” he says. He doesn’t know if he wants to hang around for an entire day and watch Charles and Raven kiss and exchange vows and make disgusting faces at each other.

Charles’ face falls. “Raven specifically requested you, Erik. She'd love if you could do it.” He sighs. “But I can find someone else if you're too busy.”

His disappointment feels like a physical blow.  “Hang on,” Erik says, because he’s apparently a masochist, “Tell me what you have in mind.”

“Okay." His smile is going to be Erik’s demise. Charles pulls out a folder from his bag and a blank piece of paper and starts writing. “The wedding is going to be small. 70 guests, if they all show up. Raven prefers to have an intimate gathering.”

“And she’s not here because... she doesn’t like to plan her own parties?” Erik asks.

Charles flushes. “Oh no. She’s a hairstylist working on a big movie set. It's very hush-hush. She has to travel quite a bit, so she wanted me to plan the wedding.”  He rubs the back of his neck. “I know brides usually do this sort of thing, but it’s what I do for a living.”

“Event planning?” Erik asks.

Charles nods. “Raven wants a limited bar. Beer and wine, as well as a signature cocktail, your Long Island Iced Tea.” He hesitates. “Can you do that for 70 people?”

“If I have one more set of hands, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Right,” Charles says, “Raven mentioned someone by the name of Allen? Aaron? She said her friends took quite a liking to him.”

“Alex.” Erik says. “Yeah, he’ll do it.”

Charles scribbles some information down on the napkin. “If everything goes smoothly, I'll recommend your services to my other clients.”

“No pressure,” says Erik.

Charles laughs, eyes crinkling in the corners. “I wanted to thank you, by the way. Raven told me what you said to her that night. If it wasn’t for you, this wedding wouldn’t be happening.”

“Don't thank me,” Erik says, “I was just doing my job.”

Charles laughs again. “Spoken like a true hero.” He has to stop laughing at everything Erik says. It's disarming.

Charles touches Erik’s arm, which is leaning on the bar. “I really mean it, Erik. Raven deserves the best. She's been through a lot.”

“Good thing she has you.” Erik says. He pats the hand on his arm and tries to very subtly brush it off. He can't focus when Charles is touching his skin like that.

Charles gives him a funny look. “Yeah, she _is_ lucky.” He sits up straighter in his chair. “Listen, if you're not busy tomorrow night, Raven’s back for the weekend and we’re going out with a friend. You should come out with us. She's really wants to see you again.”

Erik's eyebrows furrow. “She does?” That’s nice. “I suppose Alex and I could come out and join you.” He wouldn't mind spending some more time with Charles before he decides that he can't possibly bartend his wedding.

Charles brightens. “Great.” He tears off a piece of the paper he was scribbling on and writes down his number. “Here's my number. Send me your work schedule so we can sort out the rest of the details.”

Erik feels a bit guilty about the whole thing, but he takes Charles number and folds it into the palm of his hand.

“It's been a pleasure, Erik,” Charles says. He gets up from the bar stool and holds out his hand for a shake.

Erik finds its so adorable that he just stares at his hand for a minute. Then he shakes it politely and waits for Charles to leave. His body feels like he's just run a mile.

He unfolds Charles’ number and smooths it out on the bar’s flat surface, just as Alex walks in to help with the happy hour shift.

“It's not even four o’clock and you're already taking numbers?” Alex teases.

“No, the man’s straight,” Erik says immediately. “And taken.”

“Impressive,” Alex says, wiggling his eyebrows. Erik glares at him.“Don't worry, we’ll find someone better, you sad old man.”

“I'm not old,” Erik retorts.

“But you _are_ sad.”

Well, Erik thinks, he's not entirely wrong on that one.

 

* * *

 

Erik is bailing on his best bar shift to go out with Charles. He's spent his early evening serving heartbroken 20-somethings and a ridiculous group of frat brothers. It’s only 8 p.m. and he’s already had to stop two fights and console three crying girls about their boyfriends.

He's exhausted by the time Angel relieves him of his shift, and he thinks of canceling.

Alex calls him, though, and threatens to make him do the wedding by himself. (“I'm on my third beer, Lehnsherr, if you don't get your ass over here by the fifth you can do the wedding alone.”)

They both know he's not serious. Alex needs the cash. Erik doesn't need much convincing anyway. He shoves his phone into his pocket and makes his way to the address of the dive bar Charles had sent him.

The bar is a bit hard to find, tucked into the corner of a dead-end street. The sign is glowing red, with a black iron overlay.

When he enters, the smell of smoke immediately hits his nose. The bar stretches out against the back wall, decorated with vintage wallpaper and neon Heineken signs. The lighting is dim and there are hardwood floors and tables, with black stools scattered all around them.

Erik naturally prefers the bar he works at, but the appearance of this one isn't bad.

He spots Raven sitting at a round table in the back right. Everyone's there. It's Charles and Raven, and then a girl with ridiculous shamrock hair who is holding Alex by the arm.

“Erik!” Raven yells. She waves at him and stands up to say hello. She looks beautiful. She's let her hair grown out into loose waves that fall to her shoulders.

Erik gives her a half-hug and they both sit down at the table. Erik takes the seat next to Charles. (If he has to sit somewhere, he may as well sit next to the extremely attractive wedding planner with a fiancée.)  

Alex is already red-faced, four bottles of beer lined up in front of him.

“Lehnsherr,” he grins, “so nice of you to join us.”

Erik eyes the girl next to him. Alex’s body is turned completely towards her, his hand holding one of her wrists and stroking the skin with a thumb. The girl nods at him. “I'm Laura,” she says.

“Look who's here, Charles,” Raven says, bumping Charles with her shoulder and smiling at him.

Charles flushes and smiles back. There's intimacy there, like they're sharing a secret joke.

Charles meets Erik's eyes. “I’m so glad you came,” he murmurs. The way he says it is so warm and so genuine, it makes Erik feel lightheaded. Charles’ cheeks are tinted pink, and his mouth is stretched into a wide grin that he's clearly been sporting all night.

Erik’s heart stutters a bit at how sweet he looks. He wants to lean forward and kiss him.

“Erik makes the best drinks,” Raven says, gripping Charles’ right arm. “You _have_ to get him to make you one.”

Alex scowls. “If I remember right, _I_ was the one who gave you that second Long Island Iced Tea.”

“Yeah,” Raven says, “And the first one was better.”

“Less ice, more liquor,” Erik says, because he likes to piss Alex off.

“Fuck off,” Alex says, wadding up one of the napkins and throwing it at him. “Erik never knows how to have any fun. He's all business, all the time.”

“Let's get him drunk,” Raven says, eyes shining.

Erik's about to explain how he doesn't like to drink from bars that make shit drinks for triple the price, but Charles smiles widely at him and says, “Now that's something I'd like to see.”

And Jesus, how can Erik say no to a face like that?

“Alright,” Erik says. The table cheers. “I'll have a drink.”

The delighted look on Charles face is worth every penny.

A couple of beers later, Erik has a pleasant buzz that makes it much, much harder to keep his eyes away from Charles.

Charles is wearing a grey-blue button up with the sleeves pushed up, the color bringing out the clear blue of his eyes.

He has his arm slung around the back of Raven’s chair. She leans into Charles with an ease and comfort that can only come from years of closeness.

Erik was secretly hoping Charles and Raven would be absolutely awful together, but they're sweet, and bicker in the same way old couples do. He can't bartend this wedding. He really can't.

“Does the wedding have a theme?” Erik asks.

Raven gives Charles a pointed look. “Charles wants the wedding to happen in a dairy barn.”

Laura rolls her eyes. “No girl wants to get married where cows live, Charles.”

Charles huffs. “I've held plenty of weddings in barns, and they were magical.”

“What about the beach?” Alex suggests.

Charles looks horrified. “Do you know how much setup that requires? And all the sand that ends up everywhere?”

Raven smiles at him. “I'm sure the best wedding planner in the business can make it happen. You can do anything.”

“I wouldn't go that far,” Charles says, taking a sip of his beer.

“Handsome, charming, and good at his job. What a good catch, right Erik?” Raven asks, waggling her eyebrows at him.

“Hm?” Erik asks. He's too distracted by the way Charles’ lips are wrapping around the mouth of the bottle. “Yes, right.”

Alex laughs loudly at Erik's absent-mindedness, while Charles blushes bright red.

“Stop that,” Charles mutters to Raven, “You’re embarrassing me.”

Raven just laughs and pats him on the cheek. “Fine. I'll let you do the talking. I've got to call Hank, see if he’ll come out tonight.” She pushes her chair from the table and moves to the back of the bar.

Out of the corner of Erik’s eye, he sees Alex leaning into Laura’s space, tucking a strand of green hair behind her ear. Well, he knows where _Alex’s_ night is going.

Erik swallows and turns his attention back to Charles. Who is staring at him expectantly. He clears his throat. “So the wedding plans are going well?”

Charles laughs. “Alex was right, you really are all business. Tell me about _you,_ Erik. What do you do outside of bartending?”

Erik thinks for a moment. Yesterday he had rounded up the last of his mother's things and stored them away. The day before that he had finally done all the dishes he’d left in the sink. So much for hobbies.

“I've been doing a lot of cleaning,” Erik says.

Charles raises an eyebrow. “Cleaning?”

Erik shrugs. He doesn't look Charles in the eye. “My mother just passed, so I've been cleaning out her stuff.” He's never said the words out loud before. He blames Charles’ eyes for hypnotizing him into some sort of honesty trance.

Charles places his hand over Erik’s. “I'm sorry about your mother, Erik. Were you close?”

Erik doesn't move away, and Charles strokes the back of his hand with a thumb. It's really quite distracting, but it helps Erik keep his eyes dry.

“Yes,” he says. “Extremely.” He clears his throat. “Work helps, though.”

Charles nods and smiles sadly. “I'm sure she's very proud of you.”

Erik forces a smile of his own. “She is,” he says. “Or she was.”

The silence that follows feels very quiet.

_He asks about my hobbies and I tell him my mother’s dead. Lovely._ “What do you do? Outside of event planning, of course.”

Charles considers for a minute. “I like to cook,” he says, “Raven loves when I make chicken sausage.” Erik needs desperately for Charles to be less adorable. Charles tilts his head and smiles. “Do you like sausage, Erik?”

Erik nearly chokes on his drink. _Swallow, Erik. Swallow._

“Of course,” he says.

“Then maybe you should try mine.”

For a minute, Erik hears a rushing noise in his ears that drowns out everything else.

“-wouldn't that be nice, Erik?” Charles asks, when Erik can hear again.

“Yes,” Erik says. He has no idea what he’s saying yes to.

“It's settled then.” His smile is so bright Erik might need sunglasses.

Erik wants to say something smart, to continue the conversation, but his mind is stuck on loop, fantasizing about sucking off Raven’s groom. Jesus Christ, _Raven._

Erik turns and sees her talking animatedly, still on the phone. Erik drains the rest of his beer.

“When I'm alone, I love to read,” Charles continues.

“Reading’s nice,” Erik says, because his brain’s not functioning.

“Yeah? What do you read?” Charles asks.

Erik flushes, trying to remember the last book he read. God, why does he want to impress him so badly? “I just finished Wuthering Heights.”

“Oh, I _love_ that book,” Charles says excitedly. “I prefer Charlotte Bronte out of all the Bronte sisters, personally, but Emily has a fantastic imagination.”

Erik laughs and is charmed that Charles talks like he knows them personally.

Charles turns red. “Not that I would know, of course.” He blows air from his lips. (Which definitely does not turn Erik on.) “I’m a bit too drunk, at this point in the night.” He looks at Erik through his eyelashes. “If I couldn’t walk out of here, would you take me home?”

Erik wants to pull his hair out. Raven is great. Raven is amazing. She’s friendly and energetic, and is similar to Charles in a way that makes them perfect together. He’ll think about that, and remind himself that Charles is engaged. He will definitely not about think about the way Charles is looking at him right now. Erik’s chest feels tight.

If this were any other situation, he would grab Charles by the lapels of his shirt and kiss him in front of everyone in the bar. Then they’d go back to Erik’s place and fall into his sheets with their hands and lips all over each other. But he's not thinking about that right now. He's not.

“Don’t tempt me,” Erik grits out. It’s supposed to be a joke, but the way it comes out sounds serious and intentional.

”Let’s go then.” Charles says. He laces their fingers together and Erik is horrified. He sees Raven has just ended her call and is walking towards them in the corner of his eye.

_Think fast, think fast._ Erik stands up suddenly and pulls his hand from Charles’.

Everyone at the table turns to look at him. _Smooth._

“You okay, Erik?” Raven asks. He is way too drunk to tell Raven that her fiance might actually be gay. Or maybe Erik’s just reading what he wants to see. He doesn't know. His head is spinning.

He coughs. “Yes. I’m great. I should be heading home, though. I have an early start tomorrow.”

Raven’s face falls. “Already?”

“Yes,” Erik says. He’s still thinking about the way Charles was looking at him.

“We’ll have to do this again sometime,” Raven says.

“That sounds great,” Erik says, in the most professional way he can muster. “But maybe not for the next few weeks. I’m busy. Very busy.” He hopes she buys it.  Alex definitely doesn’t. He’s smirking at him across the table, the little shit.

“That’s alright,” Raven says. “We’ll be busy with the wedding, but we’ll stop in to say hi every now and then.”

“Right,” Erik says. He hopes they’ll both forget about him. They can go on with their pleasant married life and plan their honeymoon and the names of all their children. Then Erik can go back to sleeping his days away and working the night shift. “Have a nice rest of your night.”

He makes the mistake of meeting Charles’ eyes before he leaves. Charles’ eyebrows are furrowed, like he doesn't quite understand what just happened.

Erik wants to laugh. He’s not the only one.


	3. The Booze Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A whole lot of alcohol. Oops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I've had a bad case of writer's block, so this chapter is a bit jumpy. Stay tuned, more updates to come.

Erik wakes up the following morning, expecting a headache, but he feels fine. He's not hungover or exhausted or much of anything really. 

That's nothing new. He sits up in his bed, rubs the sleep from his eyes, and surveys his room. 

Erik prides himself on his tidiness, but his room has been a disaster lately. There are clothes and dirty shoes strung out all over the floor. He hasn’t taken out the garbage. 

Erik blames the night shift. By the time he gets home, he wants to go straight to bed. (Or that’s how it’s been since his mother died.) 

Living without anyone is tiring. Looking good and tidying seem like unnecessary effort. Erik rakes a hand through his hair and eases himself to his feet. 

He isn’t working today, so he takes his time and goes for a run. He eats a late lunch, showers, and flops himself on the couch. He turns on a crap reality show where singles are set up on blind dates. It reminds him too much of watching tv with his mother, but improves immeasurably with a bottle of whiskey. 

It’s too easy to access alcohol, in his line of work, and even easier to convince himself that it’s normal to drink alone at 3:30 in the afternoon. It helps him forget about Charles’ soft, inviting smile.

Erik has been alone for awhile now. Alex is the closest person he has to some sort of friend. Raven, too, he supposes, but he doesn’t know what kind of friend he is to be crushing on her future husband. 

Erik curses and takes another swig of whiskey from the bottle. He’s not _crushing,_ damn it. He’s not a middle school girl. He’s not going to think about him anymore. 

He places the bottle on his coffee table and checks his phone. No messages. 

He opens up Facebook and searches Charles up. He stares at the profile picture a little too closely. Charles’ smiling face stares back at him. His arm is slung over a girl’s shoulders. Erik doesn’t have to zoom in to know it’s Raven's. _What a sweet couple._ They look ridiculously happy together, eyes crinkling in the corners. He wants to hate them, but he can’t. It would be nice to be that happy with someone. It would be nice to be that happy with Charles. Too bad Charles doesn’t like dick. 

He swipes to the left and there’s another picture. It’s Charles alone this time, in a denim blue jacket and fringe that falls into his eyes. He’s got a boyish smile and a little scruff. Erik smiles without thinking. It’s an old picture, but Charles still looks adorable. 

Erik locks his phone and throws it across the couch. So much for not thinking about Charles. The room is starting to become blurry, so Erik closes his eyes. He stretches out and sinks deeper into the cushions. 

His mother said he’d find someone someday. He has to believe her. Mothers are always right. 

 

* * *

 

The weeks fly by. Erik decides to stop being pathetic after he accidentally puts his phone in the washing machine.  He only cleans (or does laundry) when he’s drunk which doesn't always lead to the best results. He has to shell out an extra $200 to get the water out of his display screen. It’s an unnecessary, irritating expense, he _really_ does not need right now.

He’s finishing his shift on a Monday night, when Charles walks into the bar. He takes a seat at the counter and rests his arms on the bar, leaning in like he’s a regular. 

“Ready to go?” Charles asks. 

“Go where?”

Charles frowns. “I texted you. We’re going wine-tasting today. After your shift.” 

“Oh,” is all Erik says. He’s suddenly imagining sitting close to Charles in a cozy little wine bar, his face flushed from the wine “Can’t you take Raven instead?”

Charles clicks his tongue. “I told you, Erik. Raven’s out of town for her movie. Do you even check your phone?”

There are giant alarm bells going off in Erik’s mind. He can’t imagine how he’ll be able to sit through a couple of hours drinking with Charles, teasing and flirting, while his fiancee is out of town.

Erik clears his throat. “My phone is in the shop. I stuck it in the wash by mistake.” He sounds like an idiot. “But I’m busy tonight. Alex needs-”

“Absolutely nothing,” says Alex, popping up behind Erik out of nowhere. 

“Are you _sure?”_ Erik pleads Alex with his eyes. 

Alex just grins wider. “Yeah, get out of here, go on your wine date.” 

Erik gives Alex a look that would curdle milk. It’s one thing for Erik to imagine pushing Charles against the bar and kissing him senseless in the safety of his own head, it’s another for Alex to say things like that _out loud._

Charles smiles warmly. “Glad that’s settled, then. I’ll call a car and then you have to tell me what happened with your phone.”

 

* * *

 

The wine bar is everything Erik imagines but worse. The lighting is just so romantic, with white candles, high tables, and fabric covered chairs.  Couples are murmuring and laughing, leaning into one another. 

“I’m not much of a wine connoisseur,” Charles admits, after his third sip. “They all taste the same to me.” 

Erik isn’t much of one either. He knows the merlots from the pinot noirs, and the recommended storage temperatures, but he’s always preferred whiskey to anything else. “Try this one,” Erik says. He points to his favorite of the reds.  It has an earthy aroma with a deliciously strong and spicy aftertaste.

Charles puts his lips to the glass and takes a sip. He pulls a face. “Urgh, that one is awful.” 

Erik trades him for another glass, taking his spicy wine back. He knows he’s supposed to be taking small sips of each, but he can’t help himself. He finishes the glass.

Charles is starting to turn pink, just as Erik had imagined. He sighs. “I worry about Raven when she’s gone." 

Erik frowns. There's a burning sensation that starts in his chest at her name.  “Is she gone a lot?”

“She’s a busy woman. She works and she travels. It keeps her going.”

“She seems like she can handle her own,” Erik says, swirling his next wine glass and taking a sip, “Why do you worry?”

 “When she was two years old, there was a huge custody battle. Her father and mother separated because he was emotionally abusive, and he’s been trying to get in touch with her since she turned eighteen.”

Charles drains the red he's holding. “This one is good, we should go with this one.” Erik is not surprised Charles likes the sweetest of the reds. “He’s put ads in the paper, published websites, messaged her on social media, anything to try and get her to respond to him. We put in a restraining order, but I’m terrified he might come after her.”  Charles picks up one of the whites and fidgets with the stem.

“Has she met him before?” Erik asks, taking a small sip of the white. He grimaces. It's reminds him too much of the cheap wine he used to buy in college. 

“That one is far too dry,” Charles agrees. “It was two years ago. She got curious and met him for lunch. When she came back, she was convinced that he was actually decent and she was being forced to stay away from him.”

“That’s awful,” Erik says, and picks up another glass.  It's a sweet one, Charles will like it.  “Have some more wine.” 

“Raven and I had gotten into this huge fight at the time. When I confronted her about how her father was manipulating her, she said she never wanted to see me again..” He drinks a sip of the wine and moans, which short-circuts Erik's brain. “This one is delicious,” he says and clears his throat. “Anyway, I left her alone. I moved to Boston for awhile, met a nice man I was starting to get serious with. And that’s when the threats began.”

“You…” Erik doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. “Wait. You meant woman, right?” He desperately needs Charles to say woman.

Charles squints at him. “No, Erik. Man. Are you alright? You’re looking a bit flushed.” 

Erik’s mouth feels dry. He wants to drink an entire pitcher of water until his skin stops feeling like it’s on fire all over his body. How could this be? Charles is _straight._ Right? His mind keeps looping in circles. Charles has been with a _man_. Which means he could like Erik... If he wasn't getting married, of course.

“I’m fine,” Erik says, when he gets his voice back. He mind struggles to back track to the conversation. “What threats?”

“He threatened to bother Raven for the rest of her life. When my mother heard about this whole thing, she told me I needed to come back to Raven and make sure she was okay.”

“And the man?”

Charles turns impossibly redder. “We tried to keep things going. But Raven and I… I care too much for her. She took up most of my time."

Erik covers Charles' hand with his own. It's a dangerous, dangerous game he's playing right now. “I know you want to be there for her, Charles, but you have to be able to live your own life too.” He takes a long sip from his glass. “That was my mistake. With my mother.” 

Charles nods, voice rich with emotion. “I'm starting to. Live my own life.” He squeezes Erik’s hand. “Starting now.”

The warmth from Charles’ hand is spreading all throughout Erik's body. Charles’ tongue darts out to lick his lips, and Erik’s eyes follow the movement. It's so horribly unfair. One movement, one touch, and Erik can already imagine Charles’ trousers on his bedroom floor. The way he's leaning in is unmistakable, and Erik has about one second to pull away before his fantasy really fucking comes true.

“Charles…we can’t-”

He's interrupted by Charles’ phone ringing.

“Fuck,” Charles says. (The word sounds so pretty coming from his lips.) “It's Raven.” 

Erik’s heart drops into his stomach as Charles picks up the phone to greet her. He feels dizzy and sick all at the same time. He wants Charles, more than anything, but he can't do it, not at the expense of someone who's been through so much. Not at the expense of his friend.

“No, nothing happened,” Charles snaps, still talking on the phone, “thanks to you.” He rolls his eyes. “Yes, we found the right wine.”

Erik mouths, _“We did?_ ”

Charles nods and gestures to two of the glasses they had yet to finish. “Okay, Raven. Are you doing alright?” He purses his lips. “Okay. Okay. Great. Bye.” 

Erik swallows. The room suddenly feels like all the air's been sucked out. “I'll ask the bartender to let me know the names of the ones you liked,” he says. He stands up and wipes his sweaty palms on his pants.

Charles nods. “Thanks again for coming out with me. Your tasting came in handy.”

_I wish I could taste you instead,_ Erik thinks. He nods at Charles. "Of course."

Charles calls them a car and they ride home together. Erik leans back into the soft leather seats, Charles shoulder pressed against his. Erik can feel him breathing. It's slow and steady, and Erik tries to focus on that, instead of the way his heart is beating wildly in his chest.

The Uber pulls up to Erik's apartment and Charles turns to him and smiles. The light of the street lamp filters into the car, making his hair look golden.

"Erik?" Charles asks.

"Yes?"

He says nothing and places a hand on Erik's cheek, his thumb tracing the stubble on his jaw. Erik's staring at Charles' mouth, the fullness of his lower lip. The need to lean over and kiss him is a physical hurt, like a knife to the heart. Charles leans in and barely brushes their lips together. Erik has never wanted anything so badly in his life. 

But his conscience takes over and Erik jolts back, the softness of Charles' lips lingering so lovely it burns. 

"This didn't happen," Erik says quickly. He stumbles out of the car, clumsily grasping at the door handle. He needs to stop spending time with Charles. Today was too close. 

Erik gets into his apartment and slumps on the couch. His lips are still tingling from the almost-kiss.

Fucking hell. Being with Charles is like sitting through a marathon of the Bachelor, all sparkles and self-loathing. 


	4. The Break-Up Boogie

“Good evening,” Alex says gleefully, when Erik walks in the next day.  “You look like shit.”

Erik glares at him. “You always look like shit.” He's in a horribly black mood since last night. He hates Charles. His eyes are burning from exhaustion and he feels like the worst human being alive. 

“Date didn't go well, I take it?”

Erik wants to punch him in the face. It would have gone well if Charles was anyone else. “It wasn't a date,” Erik growls, “Charles is marrying Raven.”

Alex’s mouth forms a small ‘O’. “No fucking way. He looked like he wanted to jump you, that night of the bar. He’s definitely gay.”

“He's bi and despicable,” Erik mutters. “If he comes in, tell him I'm busy.”

Alex raises an eyebrow. “There's no one here.”

“Make something up!” Erik says, “I have things to do. Don't you have work to do?”

“Nope,” Alex says, “already set everything up.”

“Well go away, I'm busy.”

“You literally have no life outside the bar, Lehnsherr. I'm worried for you. Don't you want friends? A boyfriend?”

“Don't care,” Erik says. “Stop asking questions. If you have nothing to do, help me order the wine for Raven and Charles’ wedding.” 

Alex stares at him and says nothing.

“What?” Erik asks.

“Are you _sure_ they're getting married?”

“Yes,” Erik says, “they're very much in love. I'm _happy for them_.”

Alex snorts. “You're a horrible liar. You're never happy for anyone.”

Erik grabs a wad of straws and chucks it at him. He's pleased when one hits Alex in the face. It's the small victories that count. 

 

* * *

 

The next time he sees Charles, he's working with Angel, which makes things immeasurably worse.

He can't run into the storage room and hide and he can't pretend he's too busy because there's no one else at the bar. 

Alex would've helped him stay busy. Angel? Well, she was busy scrolling on her phone. 

“Erik, you have to help me,” Charles says. His eyes are rimmed in red and he has dark bags under his eyes.

Erik’s chest aches. Seeing him like this, all distraught and in disarray, has made it impossible to run away.

“What's wrong?” Erik asks. “Is Raven okay?”

Charles nods. “She's fine. But the wedding’s not.”

The bottom drops out from Erik’s stomach for a moment. Has he told Raven about the almost-kiss? Has she somehow realized that Erik can’t look at Charles without wanting to rip his clothes off?

“Is the wedding still on?” he asks, voice tighter than he means it to be. 

“Yes, obviously,” Charles says. Erik’s heart shrinks in his chest. He’s relieved and disappointed all at once. “I've had a rough day.” Charles says and pinches the bridge of his nose. “The choreographer, Hank, and Raven canceled on me because they're too busy. And you know what they said?” 

Erik can’t imagine why Hank the choreographer would cancel when the wedding is so soon. Maybe he knew that Charles wasn’t really in it, too. “What did they say?”

“They said, Charles, you dance _so_ well when you're drunk, you can figure it out.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “Do you think I know how to coordinate a wedding dance? _Two weeks before_ _the wedding._ This is the last thing I need right now.”

Erik squeezes Charles’ shoulder. “Hey,” he says. “Breathe, Charles. We’ll figure out what to do.”

Charles takes a deep breath in and lets his shoulders sag. He leans against the bar on his elbows and puts his face in his hands. “What am I going to do? Where am I going to find a dance instructor?”

Erik considers for a moment. “Angel used to be a dancer,” he says, tilting his head in her direction.

Charles eyes her and looks back at Erik. “What _kind_ of dancer?” he whispers, eyes wide.

Erik shrugs. He doesn't know Angel well enough to know her entire history. 

Charles sighs. “Okay,” he says. “Call her over. I'm desperate.”

Erik nods. “Angel,” he says. She doesn't look up from her phone. “Angel,” he says again, louder this time.

“What?” she asks.

“Come here for a sec.”

Angel walks over to where Charles is standing. She presses her lips together. “Is there something you needed?”

Charles smiles at her warmly. “Hi Angel. I'm in the midst of wedding-planning and the choreographer canceled on me. Erik mentioned you were a dancer and I was wondering if you'd be interested in helping me out?”

Angel stares past Charles to the other side of the room. “I wasn't a ballroom dancer,” she says, “I can’t help you.”

Charles bites down on his bottom lip. “Please, I wouldn't be asking you if I wasn't desperate. There must be something you can help with.”

Angel thinks for a moment. “Fine,” she says. “We get off in an hour, at 5. Do you have a partner?” 

Charles looks at Erik with a questioning gaze.

“I don't dance,” Erik says gruffly. “Ask Raven.”

“Please, Erik, Raven’s busy. I need you.” His eyes are so wide, and so very blue. Erik is sure the universe is tormenting him on purpose. He can never say no to Charles.

“Fine,” he says. He knows he's going to regret this. Maybe for the rest of his life.

Angel laughs. “Never seen a man so easily swayed.”

Erik tries to convince himself that dancing with Charles is a better distraction than the whiskey bottle he has sitting at home. But Charles is looking at him with crinkly-eyes and a fond smile that Erik wants to rough up. He wants to know what he'd have to do to make him stop smiling like that and look annoyed. Maybe he'd have to grab him by the collar and push him against the wall, kiss him senseless until he's begging for Erik to fuck him.

What an inappropriate thought for him to think about. Erik's not thinking about it at all. 

His hands have gone a bit sweaty standing this close to Charles, and Angel’s watching them with a critical eye. He wipes his hands on his work pants. They're in Charles’ apartment, the couch and table pushed aside to create a makeshift dance floor.

There's no sign of Raven anywhere. In fact, the whole place seems a bit bare, like Charles barely lives here himself. 

Erik can imagine pinning Charles against the marble countertops, his hands tangled in his soft brown ha-

“Okay, one of you has to lead,” Angel says, interrupting Erik’s thoughts.

“That'll be you, obviously,” Erik says. If he's dancing with Raven, Charles’ going to want to lead.

Charles hesitates. “I need learn both parts anyway. So I can teach her.”

“Put your hands on his waist,” she instructs Charles. Erik doesn't want to think about Charles touching him anywhere near his waist.

Charles pulls him in and puts his hand on Erik’s left hip. Erik tenses. The warmth of Charles’ hand is searing right through his t-shirt. He smells deliciously clean, his scent surrounding Erik and making him feel a little light-headed.

“Erik, relax, you're too tense,” Angel chides. Erik breathes slowly through his nose. “I'm going to turn on the music now.” They join hands. Charles moves closer so they're pressed up against each other. Angel clicks on the music, a slow, classical ballad crooning through the speaker. 

“Okay, we're going to lead with the right foot. Charles, you step first.” 

They're both staring at their feet. Erik’s taller, so Charles’ forehead brushes against Erik’s chest. Erik is starting to panic, just a little. He needs more space, he can't function properly when they're pressed against each other this close. Erik tries to distance himself, just so their hips aren't touching, and Charles ends up stepping on one of his toes. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, “Sorry.”

Erik smirks. “I thought they said you were good at dancing.” 

Charles smiles at him through his lashes. “I am a little distracted right now,” he says, his voice breathless. _Stop flirting with me!!_ Erik thinks, in all capital letters. He wants to kiss him.

“Focus, Charles,” Angel snaps. “You need to learn these steps fast. You only have two weeks.”

Charles sighs. 

They continue their slow waltz and Charles stops looking at his feet to look back into Erik’s eyes.

 _Raven,_ Erik thinks, but then his brain rebelliously reminds him that none of her stuff is in the apartment, so maybe they won't get married after all. They can't. Charles would be miserable and Erik could take him away from all that. 

The thought is so ridiculous, Erik frowns.

“What? Is my dancing that bad?”

“It's horrifying,” Erik lies. Charles laughs. 

 _Charles doesn’t even think of me when Raven's home_. Erik reminds himself. They probably curl up on Charles’ couch and watch dozens of movies that they never finish because they're too busy making out. The thought is absolutely repulsive and Erik missteps. 

“Erik, be more conscious of your footing. One, two step, one, two step. Yes! That's it,” Angel coaches. 

No, there's no way Charles can be impartial with the way he's looking at Erik, like he's just seen a sunset or shooting star. Erik wonders if he's this charming with everyone. 

“Very nice,” Angel coos, “So intimate. You two were made for each other.”

Erik swallows. “I'm not his-”

“Right,” Charles says. He bites his lip and looks up at Erik, who is helpless to do anything but stare back at him. 

Charles’ face is tilted up and Erik’s is tilted down and the air between them is full of lightning. It feels like Charles is going to try to kiss him, for the third time. Erik doesn't know if he can resist this time. 

“You guys good?” Angel asks.

Charles jerks away from him suddenly and Erik pushes back rather abruptly, too, because for a second, he forgot he wasn't Raven. 

“No,” Erik says. “You better come over here and help Charles, he's useless.”

“Hey!” Charles says.

Angel laughs and takes Erik’s position next to Charles. Charles is pouting, but Erik can’t even look at him right now. His heart is thumping hard against his rib cage. Instead, he leans against the wall and fiddles with the speaker, pretending to be very, very fascinated by its features. 

It's another hour before Angel is finally satisfied with Charles’ dancing. They’re about to leave when Charles turns to Erik and asks, “Do you mind staying for a few minutes? I want to talk to you about something.” 

“Okay,” Erik says. He has difficulty breathing. He wants to leave right now so Charles can't tell him that he’s marrying Raven and he wants Erik to stop being a fucking _creep._

Angel looks at Charles and then at Erik. “Thank God. I can't stand this weird sexual tension,” she says.  Then she opens the door and leaves.

The silence that settles over them is very quiet. 

Charles fidgets with his hands. “I asked you to stay back because I wanted to talk to you about all this.” He gestures between them. “You and me.”

 Erik inwardly groans. Charles is about to reject him, or worse, explain how disgusted he is.

“Erik, you make me question _everything_ and I've never been so unsure about someone’s feelings before and you shouldn't have to reassure me every time I'm losing my mind because it's starting to be _all_ the time, and…” He trails off. “I like you. And I want to see you again. Regularly. Not use the wedding as an excuse.”

There's a tingling sensation in Erik’s chest. Charles is saying everything Erik wants to hear, everything he's been dreaming of for months, and it's not fair. Not fair that Charles can say this when the wedding is two weeks away. His heart hurts. 

“No,” Erik says, shaking his head. “You don't get to say things like that to me.” His hands are starting to shake. “You _know_ how I feel about you, Charles. How you can ask me for anything and I’ll do it for you, because I want you so _fucking_ bad that I can’t even stand to look at your face sometimes.” 

Charles reaches out to steady him. Erik reels backwards. The last thing he needs is for Charles to touch him. 

“What are you talking about?”

Erik hates how Charles plays so innocent all the time, hates how he's got Erik wrapped around his finger, and Raven doesn't even _know._

“Does Raven know how you’re trying to get a quick fuck before the wedding? God, Charles, if you really loved her, you would be there for her. You would focus on her and the wedding. Instead you're here… propositioning me?” Erik's lips curl.

The color drains from Charles’ face. “You don’t know how hard I work to keep her safe.” He draws in a breath. “I’m just trying to make my own life, Erik. Keep her safe and happy while making myself happy too. You out of all people should understand what I mean.”

Erik’s stomach hurts. He wants to throw up all over Charles’ cream colored carpet. “If this is your way of making your life, then leave me out of it.” He needs to say this. Needs to remind himself that this is what’s right. “Raven deserves more than this. She deserves more than you.” 

He curls his hands into fists and storms out of Charles’ apartment, slamming the door behind him. 

Erik feels relief and loss in equal measure. The emotions cripple him. He holds himself as tightly wound as he can, in case Charles is watching him out the window. He won't let Charles see him shatter.

 He gets to his car and slams his fists against the steering wheel. His throat feels tight and constricted, but he stuffs down every part of him that wants break down and drives away. 

It's not until he's back in his apartment that he lets the tears fall. He lays in his bed and cries quietly until he feels like he's going to be sick. His mother would know the perfect thing to say right now. But thinking that changes nothing.

She’s still gone, and he’s still alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the big reveal and the wedding :) stay tuned


	5. An Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the wait, you guys! I rewrote this chapter like three times trying to get it perfect. Thank you all for your wonderful comments, kudos and love, it makes me so so happy!

Erik’s still sleeping when his phone rings, blaring and persistent, on his bedside table.  Erik searches blindly for it and knocks it to the floor. He swears, extracting himself from bed to search for it on the ground.  Erik finds it underneath his bedside table and he swiftly picks it up, puts it to his ear. And bangs his head on the edge of the table.

“Fucking _hell!_ ”

“Erik? Did I wake you?”

Erik rubs his head and rises slowly, easing himself on the bed. “Raven,” he says evenly. “No, you didn’t. What’s going on?”

He hears rustling on the other end of the line, and footsteps, as if she’s moving to another room. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Erik’s heart stutters in his chest. “What about?”

“The wedding’s in a week and Charles has been acting… weird. I was wondering if you knew why.”

“No,” he says, too quickly. “No idea.”

He can hear her frown through the phone. “He’s been acting like a kicked puppy. Losing his train of thought, not focusing. I asked him what was going on, but he just shrugged me off.”

“That’s too bad,” Erik says, “maybe he’s just nervous about the wedding.”

“Really,” Raven says flatly, “so it has nothing to do with the fact you two aren’t talking anymore?”

The hair on Erik’s arms prickle. He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his palms to his sockets. He can’t tell her anything. It will ruin her life. Hell, he’s probably already ruined it. 

"My relationship with Charles is purely professional,” he says. “He’s a wonderful man, but this is a job. I have other obligations I have to attend to. I can’t waste my time at wine bars and dance lessons for a wedding that’s not mine.” Maybe if he’s a dick about it, Raven will stop asking. She’ll get the message that Erik wants nothing to do with either of them and let him out of this circle of hell, chasing a man he can never, and will never, have.

“I see,” Raven says.

They’re both quiet for a moment. Erik stays unmoving, sprawled out on top of his comforter, staring at the ceiling. He counts the grooves on the smoke detector and waits for her to speak again.

“Charles looks so run down. I thought doing the wedding would be good for him. To get out, meet more people," she says. “I think I’ve ruined him.”

Erik’s limbs feel heavy. “That’s what happens when you love someone,” he says. “You ruin them.”

He thinks of the way Charles’ lips had brushed his own, the way his insides were set on fire with a single touch. He’s never felt that with anyone before. Charles had come into his life like a storm, all drowning air and flashes of lightning.  A disrupter that made everything else seem insignificant. He is forever ruined, Erik thinks. No one can compare.

“It shouldn’t be that way,” Raven says. “When Charles met you, it was like a light turned on inside of him.” She exhales slowly. “If something happened between the two of you, I hope it wasn’t because of me. He lies about it, but the life he lives with me doesn’t fulfill him.”

Erik’s heart jumps into his throat. It’s the best and worst thing he’s ever heard. He’s secretly happy to hear how he's affected Charles. How much of an impact he’s had. But no matter how much joy he feels, he can never erase the guilt that comes along with it. The tightness in his chest that sticks like molasses. Charles had been a perfectly good fiancé until he met Erik. Charles was loyal, committed. He hadn’t wanted anything else.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Erik says, because that’s what a friend with zero self-interest in the matter would say, “He’s happy to be there for you.”

“Sure,” Raven says. “Happy.” She clicks her tongue. “Just- please tell me you’re still coming to the wedding.”

Erik hesitates. If he wants to back out, this is his only chance. But he doesn’t have the heart to cause more trouble for Charles, to force him to find a new bartender four days before the wedding. “I’ll be at the reception,” he says finally.

“It would mean a lot to me if you were at the ceremony too. You can come late. We’ll save two seats for you and Alex to come by after set up.”

Erik can think of a billion things he’d rather do than watch Charles swear himself completely off-limits forever. Shave off all his hair, sleep naked in a sewer, hell, he’d even douse his body in honey and sacrifice himself to a bear.

“I don't think so,” he says. “There's a lot of set-up involved and-”

“Oh, fuck the set-up, Erik. The wedding and reception are all at the same venue. All you have to do is walk a couple feet to see us marry. You were there for me from the beginning and you should be there to see me through.”

Erik frowns. “Raven, I can’t...” He trails off. He doesn't know how to say 'I'm in love with your fiancé' without saying 'I'm in love with your fiancé.' “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“It may be just a business transaction to you, but it means something to me. So will you please get over yourself and _attempt_ to be a friend?”

 “Fine,” he says. “But I’m sitting in the back.”

 

* * *

 

On a gorgeous, sunny Saturday at 1 PM, Raven and Charles will be married.

Erik is not panicking. He’s not. His bow tie is just a little too tight and it’s hottest part of the day. That's a perfectly good explanation for why his palms are sweating and he can’t stand still. 

Alex is next to him, helping him move boxes of wine, beer, liquor, and cups to stock the bar. It helps to stay busy and distract himself with physical labor. He picks up a box with the liquor bottles, clinking as he heaves them into his arms, and walks past the long center table reserved for the couple and their family.

Large glorious floral arrangements in green, purple and blue hang from the ceiling and sit at the center of the tables. The tables and chairs are all wooden, to match the oak paneled walls of the reception hall. Raven and Charles decided to get married in a barn, after all, and the place looks beautiful. Charles has truly outdone himself with the details. The plates are even trimmed with gold, accented with royal blue napkins that match the bridesmaids' dresses and flowers.

Erik grunts as he hauls the box onto the bar.

“Big day,” Alex says. “You nervous?”

Erik glares at him. “I'm not the one getting married.” He takes a minute to catch his breath, only to lose it again when he spots Charles. Charles is across the room, talking to some workers, looking absolutely stunning in a charcoal grey suit and navy blue tie, his hair combed neatly back.

“He's not married yet,” Alex says quietly. “You can still tell him how you feel.”

Erik frowns. “I can't do that to Raven.”

“It’ll hurt her, sure, but, Erik, he doesn’t look at her the same way he looks at you.”

Erik makes a face at him. “And how exactly does he look at me?”

Alex grins. “Like he wants to rip off all your clothes.”

Erik rolls his eyes. If only. “Yeah, well, the feeling is mutual.” He sighs. “But I already rejected him. He asked to see me more regularly and I said no. The door is closed.”

Alex shrugs. “People change their minds. You can always ask him to leave her.”

The idea of asking Charles to leave Raven is so ridiculous and so utterly humiliating that his cheeks heat at the thought. He is _not_ going to be some sort of mistress that spends years pining for her lover to leave his wife.

“No,” he says. “Absolutely not. I’m over it. So _please_ just shut up about it _.”_

“Shut up about what?” Charles asks, appearing out of nowhere. Erik wants to crawl under the nearest table and die. He hopes Charles didn’t hear the other parts of the conversation. To make things worse, he can't seem to tear his eyes off Charles. Up close, he looks even more attractive. There are bags under his eyes, but he’s still as handsome as ever, which isn’t fucking fair.

“Charles!” Alex says. “You look fantastic. So does this place.”

Charles actually blushes. “Thank you, Alex. It's been a long week.” His eyes meet Erik’s for a moment and he bites his lip. The motion is distracting and Erik can't stop staring at his mouth. He had hoped two weeks away from him would help him get over this. To be able to ignore the palpable tension that sizzles in the air like fizzling fireworks. The way he’s drawn to him like a moth to a light.

“This place does look fantastic,” Erik says, because his brain is too preoccupied to come up with an original compliment.

Charles nods at him. “I'm glad you came. I didn't think you would.”

Erik forces a smile. “Wouldn't miss it.”

Charles runs a hair through his hair which causes a lock to fall into his eyes. Erik wants to brush it out of his face. “I can't believe the day’s finally here,” Charles says. He sighs. “I might cry when I see her walk down the aisle.”

Erik thinks he might cry too, but he doesn't say so. There are a lot of other things that Charles should be worrying about right now, and Erik crying over his marriage isn't one of them.

“I'm sure she’ll look beautiful,” Alex says.

Charles smiles, the expression on his face so fond, it hurts Erik’s heart. “She does.” The sentence lingers in the air for a moment, before he straightens and clears his throat. “I best get going. I have to get ready before the ceremony. Let me know if you need anything.”

Alex gives him a thumbs up.

When Charles walks away, Alex whistles. “What did you do to him, Lehnsherr? The man looked like a hurt puppy.”

Erik sighs. “I told him Raven deserves better, that's all.”

Alex picks up a box of Charles’s favorite wine from the floor and shoves it into Erik’s hands. “Well,” he says, “you're not wrong.”

 

The ceremony has already begun by the time Erik and Alex finish setting up the bar. They've made the drink mixes and poured ice into large coolers. Erik’s heart keeps leaping in his chest as he imagines what's going on just down the road. He can't stand still. His hands are shaking as he arranges the cups into neat rows.

“Ready to go?” Alex asks, peering over his shoulder. His voice startles Erik, who jolts and knocks over an entire row of cups onto the floor.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters and scrambles to pick them up.

Alex’s eyebrows draw together. “Are you alright?”

Erik breathes deep through his nose. “I'm fine,” he snaps. He orders the cups neatly back on the table, resisting every urge to fling them against the wall. “Let's go.”

“If you say so.” Alex shrugs.

They walk along a wooded path, lined with hay bales, to where the ceremony is being held in another barn. The doors are open, allowing the light to filter inside. The walls are creamy white, with rows of wooden chairs. There are men and women dressed up in black, blue, pink and floral prints.

Alex and Erik sneak into the back row and silently sit down in the last seats available.

“Do you promise to love and cherish him in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, for better for worse, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him, for so long as you both shall live?" The officiator asks.

Erik squints, trying to see the front of the room. There’s a floral awning the couple is standing in, surrounded by green.  Raven is standing there in a beautiful lace gown, her hair plaited in a loose braid, falling over her shoulders. She looks gorgeous, just as Charles said she would. Charles is…

Charles is wearing glasses?

All the breath rushes from Erik’s body. He can't think, he can't see, he can't even move. He feels like his face is on fire.

_The groom isn't Charles._

The realization is so disrupting and so disturbing that his brain feels like it needs to be rebooted.

 “Holy fuck,” Alex says loudly. The people in front of them turn back to glare. Even Raven turns her head a little to see what the noise was. “Lehnsherr, you're an idiot,” he says, quieter this time. “Who the fuck is that guy?”

“And do you, Hank, take Raven to be your wedded wife, to live together in marriage?  Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, and forsaking all others, be faithful only to her, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” The voice, the name, all unfamiliar, is the confirmation Erik needs. He replays what Charles had said to him in his head.

_“The choreographer, Hank, and Raven canceled on me because they're too busy. And you know what they said?”_

Goddamn commas. It wasn’t Hank: the choreographer. It was Hank, **comma** , the choreographer. As in, Hank and the choreographer. If only he had caught it then. 

Erik still can't speak. He wants to punch himself in the face. He can see Charles in the front row, hunched over, dabbing at his eyes with tissues. If he isn’t Raven’s groom, how does he know her so well? Is he...her brother? Cousin? Erik's mind is looping through every interaction they've had, over and over again, trying to understand.

Fuck, he is such a dick. He presses his palms to his eyes and massages, until he sees nothing but sparkles.

Of course, since Alex is a bigger asshole than he is, he’s laughing. He's laughing as Raven and Hank take their vows. He’s laughing as they exchange rings. Erik wants to hit him over the head with the chair he's sitting on.

He just wants this ceremony to fucking finish so he can find Charles, explain everything to him and kiss him hard on the mouth. As long as Charles doesn't mind kissing a complete moron.

Hank and Raven turn to face the crowd, with smiles so wide that Erik’s cheeks ache just from looking at them.

“I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Raven and Hank McCoy!” The officiator announces. “You may now kiss your bride.”

The crowd stands up and applauds as Hank pulls Raven into his arms and kisses her, slowly and sweetly. Hank’s face is blushing a deep shade of red, but he's practically bouncing on his toes as he twines his fingers with Raven’s and starts down the aisle. Raven’s eyes are shining with happy tears. Erik smiles for them as they pass. He feels, for the first time, truly and genuinely happy for Raven.

“Erik,” Alex hisses, nudging him hard in the shoulder. “We have to go.”

Erik stands up and brushes himself off. “You're right,” he says. A smile creeps onto his face as he thinks of what's to come. “Let's go.”

They make their way down another dirt path, to avoid the wedding party. They get back to the bar just as guests are starting to spill into the room. It's cocktail hour, which means there's zero time for pulling Charles aside and telling him about the miscommunication.

Erik stares at the door, scanning each person that walks in, as he pours the cola into the glasses.

“What the fuck?” Alex asks, shoving him out of the way. “Erik, you're pouring _vodka_.”

Erik blinks and look down at the bottle in his hand. Fuck.

“Jesus Christ,” Alex mutters. “I've never seen someone so useless. Go find Charles. I'll handle this.”

“But-”

“But nothing. Do you want to ruin Raven’s wedding?”

“No.”

“Then stop trying to get her entire party fucked up!”

Erik rubs the back of his neck. Alex is right. He can't focus when Charles is on his mind. He needs to tell him what's been going on. That he's made a terrible mistake and didn't mean to reject him like that. That he loves him and has loved him since the moment he stepped foot into the bar. Shit.

Erik breathes deeply through his nose and rushes out the barn doors, colliding straight into Raven.

Raven stares at him, brows furrowed. “Aren't you supposed to be working?” Her eyes narrow as she looks closer at his face. “What's going on?” she asks.

“I’ve made a huge mistake. I need to find Charles,” he says.

She raises her eyebrows. “What did you do?”

Erik swallows. His cheeks feel hot again. “This whole time, I thought Charles was marrying you.”

Raven's mouth goes slack. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously."

He can tell Raven is trying to hold in her laughter. Her face pinches tightly around her mouth and her eyes squint up. And then she loses it. “Oh my God,” she says, breathlessly, between giggles. “You are so _dumb._ I was trying to set you guys up this entire time.”

Erik shuffles his feet. He wants the ground to swallow him whole. “You were?”

“Yes. Charles is my half-brother and you’re exactly his type.” She giggles again. “Well, maybe he likes them a little smarter.”

“Shut up,” Erik grumbles. “I made a mistake and I need to fix it. So, please, can you tell me where he is?”

Raven thinks for a moment. “I saw him with Hank earlier, but I'm not sure where he went after that.”

Erik sighs. He's spent all this time trying to get rid of Charles and the one moment he actually needs him, he's nowhere to be found. Erik wanders outside for a bit, watching the last guests trickle in. No Charles.

He walks back into the reception and looks around the room. How hard is it to find someone in a room of 70 people? He’s memorized the line of Charles’ shoulders, the way his hair falls flat on his head, but he can’t pick him out with all the brown-haired men in charcoal suits.

His eyes fall on Hank who is just leaving a conversation with another young couple.

“Hank!” Erik calls.

Hank turns towards him, pushing up his glasses. “Hello,” he says, “um, have we met?”

Erik shakes his head. “No, I’m Erik Lehnsherr, the bartender Raven hired.”

Hank tilts his head to the side. “It’s a pleasure, Erik, but why aren’t you working?”

Erik opens his mouth to explain, but then he spots a glimpse of Charles from across the room. “Sorry, it’s complicated. I have to go.” And without skipping a beat, he strides to the other side of the room.

Hank watches him go, eyebrows furrowed. He shrugs. There are more important things.

Erik’s nearing the edge of the dance floor when someone tugs on his sleeve. He whirls around to see Alex, red-faced and sweaty.

“Erik, I need help. Drinks were supposed to be out ten minutes ago, but there’s too many, and I can’t find the second drink mix. Please,” Alex pleads.

Erik sighs heavily. He’s torn between strangling Alex and running after Charles, but he’s lost sight of him again, so the only option left is to finish his job. He turns on his heel and heads back to the bar. It’s a disorganized mess of cups toppled and piled all over. “What the fuck is this?”

Alex clears his throat. “I might have,” he rubs the back of his neck, “I might have gotten a little distracted.” He gestures to the green-haired girl sitting at one of the tables. She looks back and blows him a kiss.

Erik pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fucking hell. I’m the useless one? You’re about as useful as a glass hammer.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re as useful as the 'g' in lasagna.”

“Christ. Are you 12?” Erik asks, as he searches for the drink mix.  He finds it behind a wine box and hands it to Alex.

Erik’s hands are steady as he pours the vodka. His mind is everywhere, but he feels a sense of calm. There’s something about work that always soothes his worries. Alex pours the rest of the drink mix in and helps Erik hand out the drinks to the people at the tables, who are tapping their fingers against the wood, waiting. 

 “Erik!” He hears someone call. He looks over to see Raven, waving at him and pointing at someone sitting to her left. His heart jumps. He knows immediately that it’s Charles. He goes back to the bar to grab a drink and a napkin.

At the same time, Raven stands from her table and links arms with Hank, who she drags to the dance floor. The slow music that tortured Erik just a few weeks ago begins to play from the speakers. He still hates this song. He scribbles something on the napkin with a Sharpie and slides it underneath the drink he's giving Charles. Then, he makes his way over to the main table.

Hank and Raven are walking hand in hand slowly onto the dance floor, where Hank spins Raven into his arms. They look well practiced and the move is far more complicated than what Erik had tried with Charles.

He approaches Charles from behind and touches his shoulder, leaning down to whisper in his ear, “Let’s see how good of a teacher you really are.” He slides the drink and the napkin on the table. “Enjoy,” he says louder, and walks away before he can see Charles’ reaction.

In loopy script, the words on the napkin spell: _“Dance with me?”_

Charles meets his eyes from across the room. Raven and Hank’s dance routine is coming to an end and people are starting to make their way to the dance floor. Erik’s heart is in his throat as he waits for Charles to stand up from his chair. He doesn’t.

Erik swallows and moves from behind the bar. What if he’s too late? What if Charles has already moved on? He hurt Charles in the one place that would upset him the most. So, maybe, yes, Charles is pretending that he hadn’t seen Erik’s napkin note.

Erik rubs the palms of his hands together. It’s now or never. He needs to explain all the misunderstandings, he needs to tell him he's sorry, and what Charles decides to do with it is up to him.

He walks to Charles and touches his shoulder, again.  “Would you like to dance?” he asks.

Charles opens his mouth and then closes it again, his lips forming into a small, displeased frown. His eyes are so dull, so empty, and Erik did that, wrecked all of his happiness in one week. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” The words sound similar to something Erik had said to Raven to get out of the wedding. To avoid getting hurt.

 “Charles, please. We need to talk.”

Charles sighs and considers for a long moment. “Alright.” He pushes back his chair and stands. Erik offers him a hand. He takes it, his soft, slender palm molding into Erik’s own. Erik guides him to the middle of the floor as the music changes to another pop love song.

As they take their position on the dance floor, Erik’s hands fall to Charles’s hips, and he holds them firmly, afraid Charles might run if he lets go. Charles loops his arms loosely around Erik’s neck. He doesn’t meet Erik’s eyes.

Erik doesn’t know what to say. Now that he’s in front of Charles, holding Charles, all sentence formation abilities have flown out the window.  Saying "hello" doesn't make much sense, “I’m sorry” doesn’t cover everything, and it’s much too soon to say “I want to suck your dick.” So. Erik opens his mouth and nothing comes out.

Charles clears his throat. “Did you actually want to talk or are you just playing with my feelings again?”

“Sorry,” Erik says. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Charles. I want to take back everything I said to you. There’s a reason I was such an ass.”

"And what reason is that?”

Erik shuts his eyes. He doesn't want to see the look on Charles’s face when he says what he's about to say. “I thought-” he breathes in through his nose- “I thought you were marrying Raven. I thought you were the one who was engaged.” When Erik opens his eyes, just a sliver, he sees Charles staring blankly back at him.

“You thought I was marrying Raven?” he asks. “You can't be serious.”

“I am,” Erik says, “I _am_ serious. I know I'm an idiot for thinking that, but I'm an idiot who might love you, and if I have to stand another second _pining_ I might actually die for being so pathetic.”

Charles lips quirk upwards slightly. “You've been pining for me this whole time?” 

Erik feels his face heat. “Yes,” he says.

“So when you said Raven deserves more, it was because you thought I was cheating on her?”

“Yes,” he says, again.

“And every time we almost kissed you pulled away because you thought I was taken?”

“Yes,” Erik says. “Charles, you made it impossible-“

Charles stops Erik with a hand to his chest. Erik goes still, the warmth spreading through his body like it’s on fire. “You made it even more so.” He bites his lip, then looks shyly into Erik’s face. “But it doesn’t have to be. Not anymore.”

It's an invitation, if Erik’s ever seen one, and he’s already leaning in when Charles fists his hand in Erik’s tuxedo shirt and pulls them together.

When their lips meet, everything goes oddly quiet. The kiss is gentle, but it isn't gentleness that Erik needs, not after all this time, so he pulls Charles harder against him. Charles groans softly, low in his throat. The sound sends white heat vibrating throughout Erik’s entire body. He wants everything.

Charles works his mouth in a way that is much too obscene to be in public, but fuck, Erik couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. Charles keeps leaning in closer, until their chest are pressed together and his fingers are digging into Erik’s biceps. Erik swipes his tongue into Charles’ mouth, and Charles fucking whines, inhaling sharply. Erik knows he’s done for.

Someone coughs from behind them, and Erik opens his eyes to see Charles’s entire fucking family watching them kiss for the first time. How embarrassing, to be making out in front of Charles’s little cousins and grandparents, and dear God, is that his mother?

“Charles,” he says breathlessly.

Charles blinks and pulls away. His lips are very, very red.

Raven walks to them first, grinning. “It's about fucking time,” she says, slapping Erik on the back. “Now quit stealing my spotlight. Save the making out for your own wedding.”

Charles blushes and releases Erik’s shirt. “Do you want to get out of here? You’ll be well compensated, I promise.” He winks.

“Never say that again.” Erik says, with a laugh. “Raven?”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine. Go. Steal my bartender. But don’t say I never did anything for you, Charles.”

Charles grins and kisses her on the cheek, which she wipes off immediately, muttering, "You're disgusting."

“Erik? Shall we?”

Erik loops his arm through Charles’s and they make their way through the reception hall, past the couples dancing, the over-the-top floral decorations, and the tower of party favors.

 

* * *

 

None of Erik’s fantasies of Charles in his home can truly compare to the real thing. In his fantasies, his place is perfectly tidy. Blankets and pillows are back on the couch. There are no cups littering the coffee table. In his fantasy, he takes Charles’s hand and leads him straight to his bedroom, where he kisses him smoothly into bed.

In the real thing, they barely even get through the doorway. As soon as Erik unlocks his door, Charles is on him, lips crashing against his, body colliding and stumbling.  Charles’s back hits the wall and Erik presses him there, hands tangling in his hair, Charles holding him by the hips.

The door is still open, but Erik doesn’t care. Not when Charles is licking into his mouth like that. Erik had believed that kissing Charles would make the terrible longing in his chest go away. Instead it’s the opposite, kissing him makes all the breath leave his body, his skin tingle, his hair stand on end. Erik slides one leg between Charles’s and Charles groans, pushing his hips into Erik’s. The friction is wonderful and painful all at the same time. 

When they break the kiss, Charles’s lips are red and shiny and a high flush colors his cheeks. “Are you going to invite me in?”

“I don’t know. What’d you come here for again?”

Charles laughs and kisses him, and the kiss tastes infinitely better when he’s laughing. “Take me to bed and you’ll find out,” he says.

Erik lets go of Charles to walk forward and shove the door closed. Charles is watching him, leaning up against the wall, looking absolutely perfect, and Erik can’t stop himself from leaning in close, until Charles grabs his hips and pulls him in again. 

Erik yanks at Charles’s suit jacket and untucks his button-down shirt from his pants. He hates how many layers there are, when all he wants to do is feel Charles’s skin. Charles loosens his tie and helps Erik pull off his belt.

“All these damn accessories,” Erik grumbles, “I might have to kill Raven for making the dress code formal.” He slides his hands underneath Charles’s shirt, where the skin is searing hot.

Charles’s breath hitches. “It was my idea, actually.”

Erik runs his thumb over Charles’ nipple, enjoying the way he can feel it pebbling up. “Might have to kill you instead, then,” he murmurs, low in his ear.

"I'd like to see you try." Charles smiles and Erik takes the opportunity to let his hand roam lower, towards the fly of Charles’s trousers. He’s already half-hard, and when Erik palms his cock through his pants, Charles inhales sharply.

Charles isn't the only one who's affected. It's a lot, the way Erik can't seem to control his breathing. Charles moves his hands from Erik’s hips to his ass, holding him tight enough that his fingers dig in. Erik groans and presses the heel of his hand harder against Charles’s cock, massaging it. Charles tilts his head back against the wall, moaning deep in his chest.

Erik leans in and kisses him, throughly and deeply. Charles rocks his hips back against Erik’s and through both their trousers, Erik can feel their dicks rubbing against each other. The feeling is almost too much. He wants to touch and taste every inch of Charles.

“Erik,” Charles gasps, “Bed, _now_.”

Erik nods and leads him to his room, because the zip on his trousers is starting to dig painfully into his dick.

As soon as they enter, Charles untucks Erik’s shirt, hooks his fingers in Erik’s belt loops. Then he steps backwards and stumbles over a pair of Erik’s shoes. “Wow,” he says, looking around the room.  

Erik wishes he had made his bed this morning. Or cleaned the piles of clothes on the floor. Or even picked up his shoes. His face heats. He wasn’t expecting Charles to come over so he hadn’t even bothered to tidy up. 

It would be horrifying for Charles to reject him now, not because of how much of an idiot he was, but because he can’t clean his own room like a fourth grader. “I’m sorry,” Erik says. “I’m a bit of a mess.”

Charles doesn’t take his eyes off the room. “Does it always look like this?”

“No,” Erik says. “It’s been worse in, ah, recent weeks.”

Charles steps over a pile of clothes to where Erik is standing and takes Erik’s hands in his own. Somehow that makes it more humiliating. “Because of me?”

“Among other reasons, yes.” Erik sighs and runs a hand over his face. “Can we talk about this later? My bed’s clean and I kind of want to take your pants off.”

Charles grins. “And by ‘kind of’ you mean…?”

“That I’ve wanted it since the day you walked in the bar.” Erik leans in and slots their lips together, the heat between them impossible. He licks into Charles’ mouth, groaning slightly as Charles moves his hands into his hair. The taste of Charles is starting to become familiar to Erik, and the thought of that alone is thrilling.

Charles’s eyes are hooded, his breathing ragged. “Best we get started then.”

Erik nods and pushes Charles back onto his bed. He starts on his buttons, pressing a wet kiss along each patch of skin that he reveals. He flings open the sides of Charles’s shirt and presses more kisses to his neck, against his jaw. Charles is lost in it, grinding up against Erik, and Erik can feel how hard he is when their hips roll just right.

“Fuck,” Charles breathes. He looks up at Erik, eyes steady; hands fumbling at his pants. “Get this thing off,” he says. “Everything, all of it.”

Erik can never say no to Charles, and he’s not about to start. He strips off his shirt, loosens his bowtie, and shucks off his boxers, leaving his body bare and exposed. When he's finished, he notices that Charles is naked too, his pale skin smooth and soft, begging to be kissed.

Charles reaches out and touches Erik, fingers digging into the hard planes of his stomach. He looks hypnotized, hands sliding over his skin, like he’s been thinking about doing this as much as Erik has, and the thought makes Erik dizzy.

Charles looks so good underneath him, his hair mussed, lips red, and the feeling of his hands are too good. Erik grabs Charles’s wrists to still them. “Charles,” he says, trying to catch his breath, “Hold on. ” 

Charles stills. “You're not changing your mind, are you?” He asks, voice small.

It’s the first time Erik can really see the distress he’s caused. Charles, who he thought was so unaffected by him. Charles, who he thought was just fooling around, flirting and being unfaithful.

But this is the real Charles. The whole Charles. The one who has wanted Erik for months and has been rejected every time.

Erik lets go of Charles’s wrists to cup his chin. “No, I’m not,” he says, “I’d be crazy to change my mind now.”

Charles just looks up at him, still quiet. Erik thinks maybe he’s too late, that Charles doesn’t believe how badly Erik wants him. But then Charles’s voice cuts through the silence of the bedroom, his voice pitched lower than usual. “Prove it.”

He doesn’t need to say another word. Erik dips down to kiss him again, straddling Charles’s hips.  It’s stupid, honestly, how just a bit of kissing can make him feel so lost. He can’t stop the way he groans each time their hips come together, can’t stop his hands from taking control, touching Charles in every part he can reach.

Erik’s only ever imagined himself here (more times than he’d like to admit) but now that it’s happening, now that he has Charles writhing and jerking underneath him, he feels like he’s about to lose his damn mind.

He pulls away from Charles’s lips to kiss his jaw, sucks a spot behind Charles’s ear that has him gasping for breath, before he makes his way down his throat and chest.

Charles’s cock is lying hard against his stomach, completely hard, with precome shiny at the tip. Erik wraps a hand around his length, slides his hand down his cock once, firmly. Charles jolts. 

Erik can’t stop staring at him. He wants to taste him everywhere, to prove to Charles how much he wants him, to prove he’s never going to change his mind about him again. The noises he’s making, the way he’s leaking all over his stomach, that’s all for _Erik_ and he can hardly believe it.

“Please, Erik,” Charles rasps, “I want your mouth.” He thrusts his hips into Erik’s hand.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Want you to suck me off,” Charles says. The way it sounds on Charles’s lips is so filthy and it does something to Erik, heats his body up in ways he hasn't felt in a long time. 

“Fuck, I want that,” Erik says, “been wanting that since the day I met you.”

He runs his hands over Charles’s cock a couple more times, thumb rubbing back and forth along the underside, watching Charles arch up into the bed and curl his fingers into the sheets. Erik slides down further so he can kneel between his legs.

“You’re going to kill me."

“My plan all along,” Erik says with a grin, and takes Charles into his mouth.

He sucks and licks until Charles is desperately thrusting upwards. Erik loves that he’s lost all control, and it's probably the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. Charles, the calm, organized wedding planner, trembling and squirming because of the way Erik is pleasuring him. 

“Erik,” Charles grits out, “M’close.” His breathing is coming in quick pants, and Erik can feel his thighs tensing beneath him. He pulls off.

“Jesus, fuck, Erik. I need to come. Please.”

Erik inhales deeply. The way he’s says his name like that, all needy and wanton, sends lightning straight down his spine. “I want to fuck you,” he says.

“Okay, yes,” Charles says, “Just hurry up and do it.”

Erik rummages in his nightstand for lube and a condom. It's a miracle he's kept it in there, really. He’s too eager, squeezing the tube out onto his hands and sliding a slick finger into Charles immediately.

Charles bucks up off the mattress, a flush spreading from his face to his chest. He shuts his eyes and bites his bottom lip. But he doesn’t say anything else, so Erik slips another finger inside of him.

“Shit,” Charles gasps. “A warning would be nice.”

Erik grins, twists his fingers around. “I thought you wanted me to hurry?”

Charles groans, thrusting up into nothing. “I...hate you.”

Erik smirks, pushing in a third finger. “Seems like it.” He takes his time working Charles open, enjoying the way he’s coming undone underneath his fingertips. 

He finally pulls his fingers out once Charles’s pleading gets louder, demanding that Erik finally fuck him.

He rolls on a condom, heat pooling in his stomach as he stares at Charles’s body. He looks so beautiful like this, all flushed and open for Erik. He could stare at Charles for hours, but Charles has other plans, because he sits up and gets on his hands and knees. Somehow this sight is even better. 

The first push in makes Erik groan obscenely. He grips Charles’s hips tightly, fingernails digging into the skin there. He gives Charles a second to adjust before he slides in further. Erik knows this won’t last very long, not with the way that Charles feels around him. 

Erik finds a slow and even pace, trying to push in at the right angle, one that will make Charles feel good. Once he finds it, Charles gasps, gripping at the sheets below him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Erik murmurs.

“Harder,” Charles says through gritted teeth. “Please.”

Erik thrusts harder into him, an unraveling feeling starting at the pit of his stomach. Erik reaches one arm around him to grip Charles’s cock and pumps in time with his thrusts. “Erik, I’m so close,” Charles whines.

“Wait,” Erik says.

“ _Please,_ Erik,” Charles says, “Come on.”

Erik pushes in harder, firmer. He can feel his own orgasm building in his stomach, just as Charles goes slack, coming all over his hand, his body spasming into the pleasure.  Erik groans and thrusts twice more before he comes, too, Charles clenching down around him, Erik choking out Charles’s name like he’s the best thing to have ever happened to him.

He just might be.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Erik wakes up with a crick in his neck, a mop of brown hair in his face and a 5’7” man tangled beside him, shirtless and snoring.  He rolls over and faces the other side of the bed, to stretch and think about last night’s events.

He remembers Charles with his eyes closed, Erik’s lips around him, looking so beautiful, so open. It was so unbearably hot, a steady and relentless build up to that moment, and Erik can’t stop thinking about it. 

That, and showering. He's sticky with sweat and it's disgusting. He sits up in bed and then stands, causing the mattress to dip slightly underneath him. Charles stirs, groaning and reaching out his arm for Erik, before he lays silent and still once again.

Erik pads to the bathroom and stares at himself in the bathroom mirror. His hair is standing up in three different directions and he has dark circles under his eyes. He looks terrible, like complete shit, but he's never felt happier. 

After all these months of wanting Charles’s mouth and hands all over his skin, he finally got it. And now that Erik knows what it feels like, there's no way he can ever forget it.

Erik sighs and turns on the shower water, stepping into the steaming water and letting the heat soak through his skin. His whole body feels lighter than before. 

He finishes the rest of his shower quickly, wanting to get back to Charles as soon as possible. He wraps a towel around his waist and enters his bedroom, droplets of water dripping off the ends of his hair. He slides the door open as quietly as he can, in case Charles is still sleeping, but Charles isn't even there.

Instead, there are piles of clothes neatly folded, at the foot of his freshly made bed. His shoes are lined up against the back wall in a neat row. Erik’s heart warms. Charles did all of this while he was in the shower?

He slips off the towel and pulls on a clean pair of clothes, throwing his wet towel into the laundry basket. He climbs down the stairs to the kitchen, where he sees Charles staring blankly into his refrigerator.

“I know you're passionate about your work, but do you have anything _besides_ alcohol in here?” Charles asks.

Erik grimaces. “I have cereal?”

Charles laughs and shuts the refrigerator in order to kiss Erik softly on the lips. His hair is a disaster, but that doesn't stop Erik from tangling his fingers in it as they kiss.

“Did you sleep well?” Erik asks.

“Yes,” Charles says. “You tired me out.” He arches his back, stretching. “I'm a bit sore.”

“It won't be the first time, if I can help it,” Erik says, looping an arm around Charles’s waist. 

“Someone’s sure of himself.” Charles says, narrowing his eyes, but still tucking himself closer into Erik’s arms. 

“What, you think I'm going to let you go? After you tidied up my room like that?” 

Charles pinches his bicep. “A thank you would be nice.”

Erik bats his hand away and rubs the sore spot on his arm. “Ow. Okay. Thank you, Charles. I am so blessed to have a generous housekeeper like you.”

Charles scowls. “Don't be a dick.”

Erik laughs and presses a kiss to his cheek. “For real, though, thank you.”

Charles’s face softens and he slots their mouths together, his fingertips brushing Erik’s cheeks. 

Eventually, Erik gets out the Cheerios and some milk from the fridge and they sit cross-legged on the couch, spooning the cereal into their mouths as the TV plays an episode of The Office in the background. 

Erik places a hand on Charles's thigh. “Coffee?”

Charles makes a face. “Do you have any tea?”

Erik raises an eyebrow. “I don't even have food in my fridge, Charles. What do you think?”

Charles glares at him. “Fine. Do you have cream and sugar?”

“I have some sugar and I have milk,” Erik says. “Does that work?”

“Yes. Please put as much sugar and milk as humanly possible.”

Erik laughs, but he's not surprised. Charles likes the sweeter wines, after all. He walks to the kitchen and brews a pot, passes a mug back to Charles with three spoonfuls of sugar and a quarter cup of milk. He sips his own coffee, black, and leans back into the cushions.

Charles drinks his cup and hums in satisfaction, snuggling closer into Erik’s side. Erik rests a hand on his hip. 

 _“What is love, anyway?”_ Michael Scott says, on the TV.

Charles looks up at Erik, smiles, and kisses him.

_“Maybe it's supposed to break all the rules.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an epilogue! Stay tuned and thanks for reading. :)


	6. Epilogue

“Charles. Step away from the envelopes. It's two in the morning.”

Charles is sitting on the living room floor, hunched over, surrounded by hundreds of invitation cards, scribbling on them in black gel pen. “This needs to get done, Erik.” He throws aside one of the envelopes and curses. “Remind me why we didn't hire someone else to do our wedding planning?”

Erik rolls his eyes. “Because you're neurotic and don't trust anyone else to do it?”

Charles scowls. “No. It's because I have all the connections. And discounts.”

Erik sinks down onto the couch. “I’d offer to help but...”

“But you’d be useless.” Charles says. “Your handwriting is awful.” He throws another envelope to the floor, where it slides under the couch. “Please stop talking. It's distracting.”

“Come to bed, Charles,” Erik says. “We can finish this in the morning.”

Charles glares at him. “You say that every time and then we end up sleeping til 12 o’clock.”

Erik smirks and slides off the couch to sit beside Charles on the floor. “And it's not always sleeping.” He presses a kiss to Charles’s cheek.

“Don't touch me.”

“Charles…” Erik sighs. 

“What?” 

Erik puts a hand on Charles’s thigh, which he immediately bats away. “Are you really going to stay up all night doing this?”

“Yes,” Charles says. “Tomorrow I have to go look at venues with the Coopers. And then Sunday I need to figure out where I can find doves for the Hendersons.” He drops his pen in order to put his head in his hands. 

Erik frowns. “Maybe we should just do a small wedding?”

Charles looks murderous. “What?”

“I mean, you're already swamped with other weddings, so there'd be less to do if we kept ours simple. It'd be easier on both our finances…” He waves his hands around, trying to tread lightly. “And it’s a bit more intimate.”

“Erik. Dear. Listen.” Charles says, voice completely calm. 

“I’m listening.”

“Even if we tried to do a simple wedding, I’d still make it complicated. I've spent years planning other people’s weddings and I've developed a refined taste for certain things.” He lifts a finger and points it at Erik. “Not to mention how disappointed my mother would be.”

Erik exhales slowly. “Fine,” he says. “We’ll do it for your mother. But seriously, Charles. I don't care about all the other things. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Charles says. “Now do me a favor, will you?”

“What do you need?”

“Tea. Lots of it. Immediately,” Charles says. 

Erik laughs. This time, he has it covered.

 

* * *

 

Things get a bit crazy the week before the wedding. Erik has been working extra shifts, trying to pay for the caterer and the bartender, the venue, and even the honeymoon. Charles’s family is filthy rich and can probably cover it all, but he still wants to contribute. The wedding means as much to Erik as it does Charles, even if he doesn't care for all the fancy bouquets and tiny appetizers.

He hasn't directly talked to Charles in about three days, and though they sleep together every night, Erik comes in late and Charles leaves early in the morning. 

It's not as if it’s never happened before, in the two years they've been together, but this time, the ache in Erik’s chest is a little stronger.  He's going to marry Charles in just a few days, and they haven't been able to talk about it. About the life together part. The where to next part.

Erik loves bartending, but it's not a lifestyle he can sustain when he knows Charles is waiting for him at home, curled up in his bed. He considers starting a bar of his own, but he can't afford it yet. Not with all the wedding plans. And so he feels stuck, caught between the expenses and feeling just a tiny, tiny bit empty. 

On the Thursday before his wedding, he wakes up to his doorbell ringing. It's 9 o’clock, and Charles is still curled up next to him. The sight warms his heart and he can't help himself from pressing a kiss to Charles’s hair.

Erik heaves himself upwards, body aching from standing all night at the bar, and makes his way to the front door. He peeps through the hole and opens the door in surprise.

“Aunt Ana?” 

An older woman with a sharp nose and dark green eyes stares back at him. It's been a long time since he'd seen her. The last time was at his mother’s funeral.

“Hi Erik,” she says. “I got your invitation.” She holds up the card that Charles had slaved over a couple of weeks ago. “I’ll be there.”

“That's great,” Erik says. He's a little confused why she came to his door just to RSVP.

Ana breathes in through her nose. “Edie told me to wait until you were married, but. She made this for you.” She pulls out a disk and hands it to him. “I didn't watch it. I wanted to, but it's yours.”

All the breath leaves his body. He's been thinking about his mother a lot recently, and how much he’s wanted to have her there. And now there's this, a gift from her to Erik directly. “Thank you,” he says. His heart’s still racing. 

Ana smiles at him and opens her arms, wrapping him into a tight hug. Erik’s throat hurts. She hugs with the same strength his mother did. He's not going to cry. Not going to cry.

“Congratulations, honey,” Ana says. “Edie would've been so pleased.” 

Erik nods, because that's all he can do right now, and squeezes her arm. 

“I’ll see you at the wedding. Don't be afraid to reach out if you need anything else.”

“I will.”

As she turns to leave, Erik runs his fingers over the edges of the CD case. He'd need to find a CD player. Or maybe borrow Charles’s one hundred year old laptop.

He shuts the door and walks into the kitchen, where he finds Charles sitting there, bleary-eyed and sipping a cup of tea.

“Hi,” Charles says, as Erik approaches him. “I’ve missed you. Who was at the door?” 

“My aunt,” Erik says. He leans against the countertop, steadying himself. “She gave me this.” 

Erik slides the CD case across the counter and Charles picks it up in his hands, eyes wide. “Your mother,” he says softly. “She made a CD for you?”

Erik nods.

“Let’s watch it then.”

“You don't have any other plans for today?” Erik asks.

“No, I've been working extra to get today off,” Charles says. 

“Okay,” Erik says.

Charles takes his hand and they walk over to the couch. Charles takes out his laptop, falling apart at the edges, and opens the CD player. Erik’s hands tremble as he presents him with the disk. Charles slides it in and shuts the disk drive. The laptop makes a whirring sound before a media player pops up.

“You ready?” Charles asks. 

Erik grips Charles’s hand tightly. “Yes.”

Charles clicks play and Edie Lehnsherr appears on the screen. Erik gasps quietly. She looks like Erik had seen her last, vibrant and run-down, all at once.

“Hello, Erik,” she says on the screen. Her smile is soft and sad. “It's bittersweet to be recording this for you. It really is.” She inhales deeply. “Love is truly the greatest gift one can give. It is my greatest gift to you, Erik, and it will be your greatest gift to the one you love. If you're watching this, then I know you've found him.”

She presses her lips together and Erik can see tears forming in her eyes. Fuck, it hurts to watch this. Charles is rubbing his thumb over Erik’s hand, soothing him. 

“I want to be there, Erik, to meet him. But you already know that.” She pauses for a moment, collects herself. “So let me tell you what I'd tell you, if I were there.” Edie places a hand over the front of her shirt, where her heart is. “I'm so proud of you. Of the man you've become. And I'm so happy you’ve met your person. I hope he's your best friend. Someone who’ll stick by you in the good and the bad. I hope you remember to be patient with him, to be kind, even on the worst days.”

Charles brings Erik’s hand to his lips. 

“I hope you'll continue to learn new things about each other, laugh together, cry together. I hope you'll share stories about your mama with him. So he knows.” Tears are starting to fall from his mother’s eyes and Erik’s throat feels like it's closing up. “So he knows that I’d love him too.”

His mother smiles again. “You have a whole lifetime ahead of you, schatz. Enjoy it. You never know when your time will come. I know you'll make a million wonderful memories together, so don't be too sad about me. I'm never too far away. I love you.” Edie blows him a kiss and then the screen shuts off.

Erik’s face is wet. He can barely feel his body, the hurt aching deep in his heart. It is so unbearably painful, not having her here. He buries his face in Charles’s shirt, letting his shoulders shake with silent sobs. It's not fair. To have such simultaneous joy and loss, all at once. 

Charles holds him tight, eyes misty. He doesn't say anything, just rubs his hand up and down Erik’s back until he’s quiet.  It's not much, but it's exactly what Erik needs. 

 

* * *

 

“Are we doing the whole, not seeing each other before the wedding thing?” Erik asks.

Charles presses a soft kiss to his lips, his mouth salty with morning breath. “It's a bit late for that, darling.”

Erik smiles and pulls Charles on top of him. “I wouldn’t mind seeing a bit more, if you know what I mean.” He playfully rolls his hips upward.

Charles tips his head back and laughs. “Works for me,” he says. 

Charles slots their lips together and Erik immediately deepens the kiss, keeping his hands on the small of Charles’s back, holding him close. When Erik pulls away, it’s only because he knows if he doesn’t, they’ll probably never make it to their wedding.

Charles groans. “The list of things I have to do today is actually ridiculous.”

“It’s not too late to elope.”

Charles punches his arm. “Yes, Erik. It is too late. Our guests are already in town, the caterer has started preparing the food and the cake, the venue has a cancellation fee and-”

“Okay, you’re right. I guess we have to,” Erik says solemnly. 

Charles scowls. “You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“What? To be stuck with you forever?”

“Yes. I’d make a great husband.”

“Sure.”

“No, really, Erik, I'm a catch. I can wash dishes and make delicious meals.”

“You're adequate," Erik says, smiling. 

Charles punches him again, harder this time. It doesn't really hurt, but Erik cradles him arm close to his chest, pretending he’s just been shot. “Owww.”

Charles laughs. “Let's get moving, you big baby. Our wedding day awaits.”

 

* * *

 

On a gorgeous, sunny Saturday at 4 PM, Erik and Charles will be married.

Erik is not panicking. He’s not. His palms are sweating, but getting married to the love of his life is a perfectly good explanation.

Alex is next to him, standing tall and still. It's a nice difference, actually, not to be moving boxes of wine and liquor with him at a wedding. Today, Alex is standing next to Erik as his best man. 

There are white chairs lined up neatly in aisles on the grass at David Chateau's vineyard. They're all filled. All of Charles’s loved ones and a few other friends are chatting quietly, staring at Erik and waiting. He sees Angel, his aunt, Charles’s mother, and Raven.  Raven waves at him. 

"Big day,” Alex says. “You nervous?”

Erik opens his mouth to speak, just as the music begins.

Charles starts his walk down the aisle, and though Erik can only see him from a distance, he looks incredible in his navy blue suit. He's absolutely glowing, more radiant than Erik has ever seen him. Charles meets Erik's eyes and the smile that breaks out on his face is unmistakable.

Erik grins back. His can't tear his eyes from Charles, couldn't at Raven's wedding, and definitely can't now. His heart is racing, but it's not nerves he feels as Charles approaches him. It's complete and utter joy. 

“Not at all,” Erik says to Alex. “Not at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3


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